Timely
by Tales by Eresse
Summary: Everyone makes mistakes even legends to be. Written for the fanfic100 challenge on LJ. Claimed: The sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. Also features Aragorn.


**Title: **Timely  
**Author:** Eressë  
**Type:** FPGen  
**Fandom:** JRR Tolkien  
**Characters:** Elladan and Elrohir, Aragorn  
**Prompt:** 026. Teammates  
**Word Count:** 925  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer: **The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them.  
**Summary: **Everyone makes mistakes - even legends-to-be.

Eriador, T.A. 2952  
He'd made a grievous mistake, Aragorn had to admit. He should have known better than to disregard the misgivings of the old war-dogs in the company. Even his cousin Halbarad had urged him to heed their counsel. But did he listen? Nay. He'd insisted on taking just six of the Rangers under his command to scout this neck of the woods. They would be more swift about it, he reasoned, and that was what he wanted - speed. But orcs had been spotted in the area, the others had pointed out. And in large numbers. What if they should encounter a pack? Aragorn had scoffed at the notion that such dim-witted beasts could overcome seven Dûnedain warriors, each equal to any ten men of the lesser races.

His pride and confidence in their abilities were not unwarranted though the veterans thought him foolhardy for it. Had he forgotten what his brothers had so painstakingly taught him? That survival in the Wild necessitated as much prudence as skill and courage? But Aragorn was just one and twenty years old - young for his kindred and still possessed of much of the brashness of youth. And he had only recently learned of his exalted heritage from Elrond of Rivendell and felt the need to prove his worth as the last heir of Elendil. Not to mention impress a certain Elf-maiden with his prowess in the field.

So here he was, battling a horde of snarling orcs with a mere half dozen Rangers at his side. Though none of his men had yet fallen, Aragorn feared it would not be long ere they succumbed to their foes' superior numbers. Worse, he was not performing all too admirably, hampered as he was by a combination of shock at the sudden attack and agitation at his gross miscalculation. It seemed the line of the Kings was going to come to a dismal end and all because of his foolishness.

He parried a blow and barely ducked under another. But through the corner of his eyes, he saw a third goblin scimitar swinging toward his head. With a fatalism born of the knowledge that he could not possibly avoid it, he braced himself for the killing stroke. But to his surprise, it was blocked with just a few inches to spare. He managed an astonished glance at his rescuer before said rescuer lopped off the head of his assailant. Before he could say a word, the newcomer joined yet another warrior just behind him and the two now shielded the young Ranger's back.

Momentarily freed of the need to guard his own person he stared at his unexpected guardians. They were warmly cloaked and sensibly clad in hardy, plain-hued raiment, as any wanderer in the Wild ought, and their swords while well made were far from new and devoid of ornamentation. Aragorn wondered who they were and whence they hailed but their hoods shadowed their faces. Yet there was something familiar and altogether intriguing about the way they fought. The pair not only seemed to anticipate each other's moves but also Aragorn's as well. The result was a synchronicity that was all but impossible to attain save with war-brothers of long and intimate standing. How these two could foretell what he would do and muster the appropriate response so swiftly was a riddle beyond his ability to unravel.

Despite his straits, Aragorn took stock of the situation. The unbidden arrival and aid of the two strangers had heartened his faltering men. And the unknown warriors were evidently beyond anything these orcs had ever contended with judging from the way they easily took down those that challenged them and drove away the less hardy of will. In a matter of minutes, the tide turned and the Rangers gained the upper hand and, eventually, the victory. Wide-eyed with disbelief, Aragorn realized they had prevailed despite the odds.

Standing amidst the carnage, he looked his folk over and was relieved to see no greater injuries among them than the usual cuts and bruises that were the lot of any soldier of worth. Intent on their welfare, he was startled when the strangers appeared at his side. Embarrassment and dented pride at his poor showing warred briefly with his innate nobility and humility. The latter virtues won and, swallowing his shame, Aragorn addressed the two warriors.

"May we know to whom it is we owe our thanks?" he courteously inquired, puzzled by the incredulous expressions on his men's faces.

"Fie on you, son of Arathorn," said one of the strangers, humor and affection limning his voice. "Has love so dulled your wits that you do not recognize us? We who taught you how to wield a sword?"

Aragorn gasped. But ere he could respond the other warrior spoke.

"Methinks he needs more tutoring afore we can let him out of our sight, brother." He turned to indulgently address the increasingly abashed Ranger. "Really, Estel, when _will_ you learn to listen to your elders?"

The hoods came down and two pairs of piercing grey eyes gazed at him with fond amusement in the manner of older siblings regarding the runt of the family. Aragorn groaned as the brethren Elladan and Elrohir purposely flanked him, roguish smiles creasing their handsome faces, while his fellow Rangers strove to stifle their mirth. Why on this luckless day of all days, Aragorn ruefully thought, did he have to have as witnesses to his folly his erstwhile teachers, the hawk-eyed, clever-tongued sons of Elrond?

End


End file.
